Umbrella's Ground Zero
by R.T.D.W
Summary: Umbrella gets its revenge on America in a gruesome way, playing with an even deadlier T-virus and turning an entire metropolis into the city of the damned. Follow some of the city's only survivors as they fight to get out before it's too late.
1. Prolouge

If anyone is sensitive about September 11th and what occurred then, then I suggest you stop reading now. I will tolerate flaming about this story, because what right do I have to say no flaming? If I haven't put a disclaimer, then, too bad. I disclaim nothing. Also, any new readers to this story, bear with me for these next few chapters. They were, after all, written almost two years ago.

Thank you,  
R.T.D.W.

Following the Raccoon City incident Umbrella was no longer allowed to conduct business, and was disbanded. But Umbrella still had more than enough money to form aliases and new companies to distribute their products and bring in money for their twisted experiments.

Every Umbrella high-ranking employee was being tracked down after they all just disappeared following the incident, along with all the money in their bank accounts. The US government working with other foreign governments destroyed seven Umbrella laboratories, capturing only one sample of the T-Virus.

But now the Umbrella Corp., under the new name _'L.F. Pharmaceutical'_, was continuing unhindered with its vile and unwholesome, not to mention illegal, experiments.

Now, after modifying the T-Virus so that the victims cells didn'tdecay so quickly and so that the virus took control much faster, Umbrella was going to exact its' revenge upon the United States by infecting their precious New York city, which had an estimated ten million residents. And the President wouldn't be able to take the easy way out this time. This time nuclear launch wouldn't be an option.

No, the United States would have to get their hands dirty in man to abomination combat, because unlike Raccoon, New York isn't isolated, and unlike Raccoon, New york was located near several major military installations. And people would find out what was happening very quicklybecause a large spotlight would be focused on a certain Ground Zero.

**Logan International Airport**

The man walked towards the blue suburban, sunlight glinting off his black sunglasses and silver watch engraved with Umbrella's old business symbol.

A Muslim looking man, with tanned skin and looking as if he had gone unshaved for a few days, got out of the drivers seat and nodded his head toward the suit wearing man.

"Have you done as you said you would?" Asked the Muslim, thick accent coming through his voice.

'Yes, yes... we've done it... the canisters are place in the cargo bay, hidden of course. Enough to contaminate most of the Manhattan business sector." Replied the man in the suit, sounding thoroughly bored. "We'll both have what we want, you get your revenge on America and we get our revenge on America."

The Muslim simply nodded and started to walk off, not saying anything else.

"Ah, but wait, I have one other thing for you." Said he suited man, stopping the Muslim dead in his tracks.

"What is it you want, American?"

"I want you to take this on board the plane, you don' need to do anything to it, just make sure no one touches it." After saying this the man pulled a large metal canister with four indents in it out of his pocket and handed it to the Muslim, who simply grunted and put the canister in his carry on back-pack.

And with this both men departed, one ultimately bound for New York, the other bound for a security station where he would watch events unfold, seeing how effective the new virus was. Though, this was really only an excuse to exact revenge upon the U.S., for not even entire countries were safe from Umbrella's wrath.


	2. The Bomb Falls

**_North Tower, Floor 93. 8:45 AM_**

Jeremy Lord stared out his dad's office window at airplane flying towards the tower.

_'That thing's going really damn fast...'_ he thought, _'and it's low...'_ Jeremy watched as the bottom of the plane nearly scraped a satellite dish.

_'Oh shit'._

Jeremy threw himself to the floor as the plane smashed into the floors above him, shaking the walls and floor and creating a deafening crashing sound that included the crunching of metal.

Knowing that there would obviously be fire he put his shirt up over his mouth and nose, acting as a crude filter. Jeremy then made his way to the stairwell, hoping his dad was OK in the meeting he was at. Other people were trying to get to the stairwell, while others were calling 911.

Jeremy could see the door ahead, the glass window in the center of it clouded by smoke.

Taking a deep breath a pushing the shirt harder to his mouth Jeremy pushed through the door, the smoke irritating his eyes greatly. Pushing his glasses up his sweaty nose he began to rush down the stairs, followed a large crowd of panicked people. As he continued down the stairs, tarting to feel dizzy, he say that taking up half of the stairs lower down was a large metal canister as big as himself, smashed into the wall, and cracked. The air around it smelled foul. Now Jeremy slowed, dizziness and a headache overpowering him.

Within seconds his body fell to the floor, being rushed over by workers trying to escape. And then people started screaming as Jeremy's former self began to feed, as did others, the first to be infected.

**_Conversation between 911 call taker and trapped employee. 8:53 AM_**

"Help me! Please, help me! Send help, please! The other workers are insane, devouring each other!"

"OK mam'. Please calm down. Where are you now?"

"I'm holed up in my bosses office, but the door won't hold out for long! I'm on the 98th floor!"

"Mam', can you please describe your co-workers symptoms?"

"It's scary, they stumble around moaning, arms up in front of them, their eyes completely white! They seek out anything living and devour it alive! Please, you have to send help, the things are almost through!"

"Mam', help is on its' w-"

"Oh my god, no, NO!" The crash of glass was heard over the phone, as one of the station monitors showed someone jumping from the tower.

The news reporters took it as a sign of desperation, but little did they know the truth.

The virus had landed, and was spreading. Within hours the city would be at its' knees, begging for mercy and help.


	3. Survivors Aplenty

**Survivors Aplenty**

The area around ground zero was, simply put, chaotic. Dust was still floating around the scene from the collapse of the two towers. People were running around in a confused manner, some towards ground zero, others away. Lieutenant Bradley, who in his entire career had always been someone who needed order on the scene, was telling people off for "screwing around". Even during a time of crisis like that.

The seventh person he encountered, though, seemed to ignore him entirely. That is, until officer Bradley came up behind the man, attempting to get him to respond.

When he did that, the person turned around, biting Bradley's thumb off. Not clean off, because that's hard to do with teeth, but right through it, shattering bone and shearing skin and blood veins.

Bradley, being a semi-sensible person, did the smart thing, drawing up his handgun and pumping every round he had into the pitiful fuck.

Within ten seconds, two other officers were upon him, restraining him, and in this isolated incident of chaos within a much larger one, nobody noticed that the 'dead' man's head was still moving, watching it all - despite the fact that his chest was a bloodied pulp.

In fact, the lady seen jumping from the tower? Her body wasn't found, only a trail of blood leading from a bit of bone and flesh.

Many bodies were left un-accounted for, and they seemed to find their way through the city with relative ease.

* * *

**Four Hours Later**

**Office Building Near Ground Zero**

The man, in his mid-forties, sighed, drawing up his papers. Time to go home.

Sure, there had been some bad crap going on with the towers right next to his building, but so what? Work was work, and it needed to be done.

His papers gathered, and his empty Starbucks coffee thrown away, he closed the door to his office, turning around - to nearly fall in a four foot gap in the spacious hallway.

"Shit!" he gasped, pressing himself to his door, catching his breath. The hole seemed to go down all seventy feet to the first floor, no, the basement, and in the ceiling the hole stretched upwards towards the roof.

Gathering himself, the man, the nameplate on the door read Gary, sidled to the open floor to his right.

Getting down on his chest on the floor, Gary peered over the side of the hole, down into the basement where a burst pipe was spraying water out madly, and several sparks leapt out into the open from wires.

And the glint of something metallic... but what was it?

Curiosity getting the better of him, Gary headed for the East stairwell, the only thing leading to the basement, and pushed open the door.

One of the lights had gone out, the other one flickering on and off, casting leery shadows. There were no windows, and all the other doors below were closed, leaving it eerily quiet as well as dark.

Alarms instantly went off in Gary's head, but he had to, no, needed to know what was down there.

Starting slowly down the stairs, every step of his dress shoes on the concrete steps sounded loud and intruding to his ears.

Halfway down the flight of stairs Gary heard something down at the bottom of the stairs, and stopped cold.

Something was dragging itself up the stairs from the basement, something wet. Loud, wet, soggy steps could be heard, slowly ascending the stairs.

Then, they stopped. And the quiet was deafening for a moment, before a door could be heard being forced open, and the steps continued, no longer audible once the door closed.

Continuing down the flight of stairs to the landing, Gary found it to be covered with a reddish liquid, like watery blood, all congregated in a puddle by the door, before the trail led through it. The door, a solid metal one, had a large dent in the middle, and the bolt was broken clean off, laying on the floor in the puddle of watery blood.

Gary continued down into the basement, where the only light fixture, a bare bulb, was flickering on and off, casting an eerie light over the near two feet of water that had washed over everything.

Papers and other debris floated in the black water, heavier objects making for treacherous footing while Gary waded through the basement, to where the brighter light filtered through the hole, highlighting a small patch of water. That patch of water was where Gary found a small, stainless steel, one cubic foot metal object with several small indents spaced evenly around it.

Part of the object was caved in though, bits of metal and such twisted every which way. The metal though, seemed too thick to crush, despite being only say... ten pounds, at the most.

Stashing the canister in his pocket, Gary's heart raced, though he had no clue as to why, and he sloshed through the water towards the stairs as fast as he could. Upon reaching the stairs he dashed up them as quickly as possible, running through the lobby, down a white a hallway, and into a dark parking garage. Running through the rows of cars, and stopping at his own small Volkswagen Golf, and wrenching the door open, and slamming it closed.

Waiting a moment to catch his breath, Gary looked wildly around. 'What the fuck was that?' he thought, wondering why he had suddenly gone so spaztastic.

Sighing, he started his car. 'Time to go home' Gary thought, pulling out of his parking spot and leaving the garage, the canister safe inside his inner pocket.

* * *

**(Ok, as many of you will realize, I removed this chapter previously, in order to fix it up for story reasons. Smart people should be able to figure out why. As to that one guy whose name I can't remember for the life of me, there will be adults coming into the story. I plan on killing some paparatzi's, too. :)**

**Best regards,**

**Bert)**


	4. Up the Stairs

**September 19th, 2001**

**Manhattan Island**

"Come on, Zane," said Bert, turning and around and standing there waiting. "God, I swear, you're slower than me after I eat."

"Yea, well... you suck," said Zane, running to catch up, "It's not my fault I'm not as tall as you."

"Yea it is," replied Bert, grinning.

"No, how can-"

"Ah!"

"But-"

"No!"

Zane shook his head and sighed.

"So, where we going, and why'd your parents let you go alone?" asked Zane, looking up.

The two really were an odd pair, Zane being the shorter by about four inches with a short cut blond head and blue eyes, because of his German ancestry, and Bert the taller with a jar head cut of brown hair and glasses adorning his brown eyed face.

"We're going to Bryan's house to goof off and spend the night. And mom and dad decided just to get rid of me,"Bert said,"since George is out of town right now, and I guess they wanted some alone time." He grinned.

"So, what are we gonna do at Bryan's place?"

"Well, hopefully his sister will be there, so that-"

"You dumb ass! She's like three grades down from you!"

"Yea," agreed Bert, grinning, "But I like her."

"You mean like you like Breanne and Justine and so on?" taunted Zane, grinning back.

"Oh, fuck you," Bert replied. "They're the best in my opinion."

"Suuure."

Bert sighed and shook his head, sticking his hands in his pockets, the right hand among a pen and two mechanical pencils, the left among a folding steel MAXAM knife.

After about thirty seconds more walking Zane asked, "So why didn't we take the bus or whatever?"

"Cuz I'm too lazy to get money for the bus," was the reply.

And lo and behold, as these things seem to happen, a bus sped by, some commotion going on inside, and then smashed into a car. And then another and another. And a few pedestrians. Suddenly, due to a rare occurrence involving gas, leaks, and sparks, the whole damned thing exploded, sending a few body parts flying, and tons of metal.

The two just stood there, shocked by what'd just happened.

"Oh my shit mongering god fucking whore," Bert said.

"Crap," said Zane, his vocabulary very tiny compared to Bert's.

People on the street and in the cars were either doing two things now, running away or going to help, if that was possible.

Bert and Zane did neither, running and jumping onto and over the hood of a non-exploded taxi that had smashed into a wall by the sidewalk. Then, they ran like hell.

* * *

Five minutes later they sat on the steps into Bryan's apartment building, panting and dripping sweat. 

"That was fucked," said Zane, face blank, "Did you see inside, somethin' was goin' on there!"

"Yea, situation normal all fucked up for sure," replied Bert, grimacing.

They sat a bit longer, regaining their breath.

"Well, to Bryan's apartment. Away!" said Bert, half-heartedly.

They both trudged up the stairs, down the hallway, and up more stairs, and after a minute stood in front of Bryan's apartment's doorway.

They stood a second, both contemplating how fucked up their day had just turned, and then knocked.

A few seconds later the door opened, and Bryan stood there, mouth agape.

"Whoa, Bert, what happened to you?" asked Bryan, eyes wide.

"Ah, well, We were attacked by psychopathic exploding motor vehicles," said Bert attempting at humour, "Why?"

"You seem to be bleeding."

"Figures. So, where's Leanne?" Bert, even if his day had been screwed up, had his priorities.

"Heh, she's taking a shower," replied Bryan, laughing, come on in, "Let the day begin!"

"You rhymed!" said Zane, for no apparent reason. It was just what they did. They were weird that way, the three of them.

"So, what should we do?" asked Bryan, closing the door. "We could go on you-tube, we could watch a horror movie, we could throw things at Leanne... the possibilities are endless!"

Bryan was almost a mix of Zane and Bert, somewhere in the middle in terms of height, with short, blond hair and a medium-largish nose and blue eyes. Right then he was wearing a green t-shirt and blue jeans with bare feet.

"Hm... Where are the parents from hell and back?" Bert asked. The incident almost seemed lost, but it was there, eating away at him.

"They went out for a while," answered Bryan, "They'll be back in a few hours."

"Awesome," said Zane, rubbing his hands together devilishly.

"Soda, anyone?" asked Bert, dragging a two liter bottle of Mountain Dew from the refrigerator.

"Oh YEA..." said Bryan.

* * *

Eight hours of total sugar highs and crashes, some bad headaches, and lots of movies later, the three of them were in the living room, the credits for the 'Dawn' of the Dead' movie playing on the TV. 

Bert was draped across the biggest couch, his shirt soaked with water. Bryan was lying upside down on the back of a chair, eating a twix. Zane was simply laid out asleep on the floor. Leanne was in her room doing lord knows what.

The clock on the stove read 11:07 P.M., and the night sky showed it, pitch black, but something else was strange about it too. It was TOO black, as if something else were up there in great quantities, darkening the sky. As he pondered this, Bryan wondered aloud where in the name of god his parents were. They all had wondered this, and Leanne had come and asked.

Bert, shaking his head slowly, got up and wandered into the kitchen, turning up the dimmed lights. Blinking, he doused himself with cold water, explaining his shirt.

Walking over to the living room window, Bert looked out. Something wasn't right... the street seemed positively abandoned, nothing was there except for a few cars. Then he realized it, there was a building two streets away that was burning. But wait, there was another... And another...

"Holy crap, Bryan, Zane, come here and check this out."

Zane didn't oblige, being asleep, but Bryan did, and swore, a rare occurrence.

Small and large fires alike dotted the Long Island landscape around them, with dense, black smoke filling the sky.

The bridges linking the island with the rest of New York, along with all the others that were viewable from this point, were seemingly destroyed. The tunnels most likely were also, they figured.

But why?

The answer came in the form of something that it is surprisingly hard to recognize after a zombie movie.

What was it? A zombie of course. They didn't realise, nor did they see it, dragging itself around the alley across the street.

"Bryan, can you come here?" It was Leanne, from her room. Her voice sounded odd...

"Yea, I'm coming Leanne," sighed Bryan, heading for her room, leaving Bert to gaze out the window alone.

When Bryan got to her room she was by her window, her head hidden in her face. She shakily used one hand to point out the window, where, looking out, Bryan could see a disturbing sight. Two fairly humanoid shapes on their hands and knees eating another third shape, with strands of tube-like something hanging out it's middle.

"Shit," he said, closing the curtains. "Leanne, c'mere into the living room," Bryan said, helping her up.

After depositing Leanne in his chair, Bryan woke up Zane, and the the three went and observed the scene outside Leanne's window, and after a few minutes of cursing, they decided that two would go to the roof to see what else they could see, then come back and they'd think further. They were all genuinely scared, even if they didn't show it, such as Bert.

First things first, something was needed to defend with. Bryan had a Foosball table in his house, so, with the help of a screwdriver, the took the people off the metal poles, and the poles out of the table. Of the poles, Bert chose a shorter one - about two-and-a-half feet long. Zane a medium one, about three feet long.

The two then stood to either side of the main door, and opened it, slowly.

Bert went first, breathing lightly, and looking both ways. The lights were still on, but it didn't make it any less terrifying knowing that the dead, just like from the movies, were walking. Walking silently on the dirty carpet towards the stairs, Bert stopped at the first door they came to, and listened in. Nothing.

He did so at the next four doors also, coming up with nothing, until they came to the stairs. The stairs were open to the hallway, no door, and were extremely wide, about six feet, going in circles around an opening that went all the way from the first floor to the seventh. Motioning for Zane to stop, Bert leaned over and looked up the stairs.

Four stories. Damn it. That was a long way to go up stairs with the fear of the undead. Having just watched a zombie movie didn't help either. Bert took the steps one at a time, compared to his normal two, more for purposes of noise than anything else. He reached the next landing without incident. Then he motioned for Zane to come up. Zane started walking, but slipped on the third step with a loud crash.

Then they heard it. Shuffling footsteps and a slight gurgle from upstairs.

Looking up Bert saw one of the undead, a small woman of about five and a half feet on the top floor. She didn't waste her time with stairs though, she just ran into the railing and flipped over off it, landing with a sickening crunch six stories below, two stories below Bert and Zane.

Both of them were shaking all over, and Bert swore silently. It was going to be a long four stories up those stairs.

They managed to climb the stairs the rest of the way with out incident though, as the denizen of the undead that took a plunge off the stairs seemed to have killed itself in the process.

The door at the top though, was locked, and had a sign on it reading 'Janitor's office'. The lock, though, seemed to be old and fairly rusted, and the door frame slightly rotted, so they decided to try and break it down. And after a few solid hits from Bert's 150 pound bulk, the door gave way into a small room piled with something unidentifyable, as the lights were off.

This was remedied, though, by groping around the wall near the door, and flipping on a naked bulb hanging from the ceiling.

They appeared to be surrounded by gun magazines of all kinds, from the _American Hand Gunner _to the_ Guns Magazine_.

"Damn," said Bert quietly, "Something tells me he liked guns. Also explains what that dingy shack on top of this building was."

"Yea," replied Zane, "But if he liked guns so much, where're the actual weapons?"

"Like he'd have any, firearms are illegal here."

"Damn."

"Yea. Definitely."

The two made their way through all the magazines to a door on the war wall, opposite the door they came in through.

Outside it was slightly chilly, and smelled of acrid smoke with an underlying smell of _something_ there, something like bad meat.

The landscape around them was _very_ different from normal, quiet except for various car alarms, screams, gunshots, and hundreds of sirens.

Hundreds of fires glowed around the city and they watched in awe as some tall building in the skyline fell sideways. Thick dark clouds of smoke drifted eastward.

The street below was deserted except for a few shambling figures, presumably, dare they say it? Zombies. In the windows around them there was either no light, light, or shadows of either the dead or the living, or in one case, both.

"Well, this looks bleak," observed Bert.

"Yea," answered Zane, sighing, "Definitely."

"I wonder..." thought Bert, "Over ten thousand cops around here, and what the hell are they doing right now?"

"Yea..." answered Zane.

And they stood there for a second when a zombie shuffled out of an alley across the street, wearing a police uniform. A gun was obviously in its holster at his side. There were also some shotgun shells in a holder on his vest, but there wasn't an accompanying gun.

"I'd like to get my hands on the sucker," Bert laughed.

"Yea, let's go and get it," Zane grinned.

"Definitely," Bert agreed amiably, "Let's go!"

They turned around towards the door to the apartment to find a figure standing in it, swaying. It let out a slight moan, raising its' chubby arms towards them and shambling forth.

They backed up, step by step - for about five steps before they reached the edge, the zombie gaining ground quickly, its' lips opened in a twisted grin. An idea struck Zane at the last moment and he stepped to the side, leaving Bert there by the edge. Right at the last moment Bert sidestepped and pushed his Foosball pole into the thing's back, sending it careening over the edge.

It hit with a sickening splat and crunch. It appeared to have broken both legs and arms and lower spine, but the head was still intact, so it was moaning loudly, flailing it's limbs in irritation, the forearm on the left arm flailing on its own from the middle, as if the arm had three joints.

The two boys turned away from the disgusting sight, walking slowly towards the door once again, alert now.

More so than before anyways.

The rest of the way down to the second story was without event though.

* * *

"So that's what's going on right now," finished Bert, "And we plan on taking out the cop and his gun." 

"Yea, and getting eaten in the process, right?" asked Bryan skeptically.

"Maybe, maybe," Zane said dejectedly, "But a gun is a great anti-zombie tool, right?"

"Yea, and it'll get you killed, retard," Bryan replied.

They didn't argue anymore, and Bert and Zane left quietly, slightly defiant.

Dang, testosterone will really kill you.


	5. Escaping the Hoard

Brian and Leanne were sitting in the living room, waiting for Bert and Zane to get back.

They waited five minutes. Then ten. Then thirty.

At around forty-five minutes they were too freaked out, Bert and Zane shoulda been back at the most a half hour ago.

"Ok, screw this!" exclaimed Brian, standing up, "I'm gonna go to the front door and see if they're out there."

"No!" said Leanne, "Don't go! It's too dangerous! Don't leave me here!"

"They were fine before, and I'll be fine too! Dammit Leanne, it'll only take me a minute."

She ran into her room at this point, closing the door behind her, and Brian went out to do what it was he was gonna do.

And just like before, Leanne waited five minutes. Then ten. Then thirty. And Brian never came back.

* * *

Bert and Zane's footsteps sounded out loud as they pounded down the alley way, and out into yet another infested street. The hoard was getting larger behind them, and in front of them. They couldn't run forever. Clutched in Bert's sweaty hands was the cop's pistol, and stuffed into his pockets were the two other clips they'd found on him. In Zane's sweaty hand was a steel knife, custom made, with the initials J.C. on the blade. 

Bert had had to finish the undead NYPD member with a shot from the pistol as Zane held him down. And that had been a mistake. Now all of a crap load of the undead were marching along behind them, en mass they were loud and hungry. And more kept coming.

At the end of the alley they turned out onto a city street, littered with debris, bike, blood, and parts of bodies. The two boys were covered with sweat, and breathing heavily.

There must have been hundreds by that time, and Zane and Bert were worn out. At about the same time they came upon a firetruck abandoned in the street, its' ladder high in the air against the side of an office building.

"Climb!" yelled Bert, throwing himself up the side, and extending a hand to the shorter Zane to help him up.

Standing up, Bert pushed Zane towards the ladder, indicating he should climb. He did so and then Bert followed, keeping a weary eye on the hoard below that was gathering around the truck, already beginning to move it slightly, and more were climbing up, with their brethren surging forwards from behind. At the top the two boys stopped to breath, panting heavily.

It seemed, though, that zombies could kinda climb ladders, as within thirty seconds, one was attempting to pull itself up towards the two boys. When it was ten feet down, Bert lined it up in his sights, and pulled the trigger, jerking up, but not enough to lose the kill. The permanently dead corpse fell down atop its brothers, who were also beginning to climb.

"Well, we're fucked," sighed Zane.

"Yea, unless we get our asses outta here," replied Bert, looking around at their surroundings.

"What? We gonna jump down there?" asked Zane sarcastically.

Bert ignored him, thinking. All of a sudden, though, he exclaimed: "Jesus, we're such idiots!"

"You just noticed?" Zane asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Shut up, and climb to the top of the ladder!" Bert said, shooting three times at one of the ascending zombies.

Zane did so, and caught on to Bert's plan when he realized that the ladder ended at a window. But what to break it with? Thinking for a moment, as Bert swore because his clip went dry, Zane decided to use his shoe, pulling it off and smashing the window with it.

The shards of glass fell into the room on the other side, though a few didn't, and those fell harmlessly into the hoard below.

While climbing through the window, Zane cut himself, but didn't say anything, and called for Bert to come up.

He did so. they had escaped the hoard.

Looking around the room, he saw it was a large room, completely gutted by a recent fire, four charred skeletons on the floor. The wall to the left of the windows was covered with a large beautiful, albeit charred and ruined, mosaic depicting a man tied to a log and being burned alive, though he was missing and arm and had flesh in his mouth. What it depicted was fairly obvious.

Other than that, the room was bare.

"Try the door, then?" Zane asked.

"Sure," Bert said, walking over to the door, fumbling to put another clip in the gun. The moans of the undead could be heard outside, in the street below.

The door was blackened, though otherwise seemed to be in fine condition. The handle was still warm from the fire, but turned fine.

The door opened quietly on oiled hinges, and closed quietly as well. Now the two stood in a hallway with tinted glass on one side that looked over the building's lobby, a large fancily decorated area with a large desk at the back for the secretary made of mahogany.

A large staircase could be seen, crisscrossing up the far wall up the entirety of the building - about twelve stories.

Looking back at the door they'd come from, Bert saw a small book in the 'inbox'. Pulling it out, he saw the words, 'Emergency Codes: What to do when announced.'

He pulled it out and started skimming through, and something caught his eye...

* * *

"-And now we go to one of our helicopters who are now circling over the city," said the news reporter, sighing as the camera man signaled the camera was off.

Now the screen showed an Army Apache copter circling over New York suburbs, then zoomed down to focus on one of the streets, which was over run with undead who were attempting to gain access to a Loomis and Fargo armored car, and failing miserably.

The car was slowly inching forwards the crowd, and once the zombie on the hood fell off it started to speed forwards.

The next shot was of the barricades set up at all the entrances to the island, manned by police and military units alike. At one barricade the oncoming hoard was only ten feet away from the barricade, when the soldiers tossed seven incendiary grenades at the hoard. The grenades did their job; sort of.

Now instead of a normal undead hoard they were faced with a burning undead hoard. In the face of this new enemy the soldiers manning the barricade turned and fled back to the next one, which had two Humvees with M249 SAW's mounted on top. Once all the soldiers had made it to the barricade the SAW's opened fire.

The screen then returned to the reporters, the woman saying: "As you can see, it is a grim and desperate scene in the city of New York."

* * *

The phone in the dark conference room rang, once, twice, and the third time someone pressed the speaker-phone button, lazily, drawling out, "Yes?"

"We're not getting any readings from experiment x23, which was supposedly dropped into New York. We think it may have been damaged," said someone on the other end.

"Goddamnit! Send out support squad two twenty seven and have them attempt to recover it, if the location device is still operational."

"Yes, sir. Anything else?"

"Yea... the scientists have done well with this new strain, let 'em all have the day off."

"Yes-sir."

(OK, I'm done with this chapter, and it leaves a bunch of loose ends, don't it? Like, what will happen to Leanne? Will Bert and Zane live? Just what the hell is support squad two twenty seven? Well, TOO bad, you'll have to wait! How long? No frigging clue.

Regards,

Bert.)


	6. Code Grey

"Code Grey," Bert read aloud, the two boys sitting on the granite counter of a large and extremely fancy bathroom, the faucets made of gold. "Code Grey pertains to the release of any of the Gamma series 're-animation' chemicals, within the lab, office complex, or anywhere within the surrounding city." 

"In the case of a Code Grey, all employees are to destroy any incrimating evidence that may imply them as being involved with or connected to the Raccoon outbreak in any way."

"In the case that there is an outbreak in the labs, all security personnel are required to shoot anyone seen in that vicinity on sight, and lock all three blast doors. All non-essential personnel will be required to report to the helipad directly above the security section of the building."

"All essential persons must use the provided materials in their safes to burn their office, being sure to close their doors and windows first. They will then be required to report to the sub-section B12 of the maintenance level by one hour after the Code Grey warning is issued. At that time the 'Windhund Express' will be departing to a safer zone forty miles away in the seabed, where you will be picked up by the waiting nuclear submarine 'Jabberwocky'."

"If the outbreak is outside of the entire NY complex, then all samples are to be gathered with special containment units, brought to 'Windhund Express,' and deported via submarine one of the European labs. All test subjects are to be cremated in the special facilities, and all bioweapons are to be put to sleep."

"This pertains to any and all…" Bert trailed off, finishing by saying 'yada yada yada'.

"Well," said Zane, getting off the counter and stretching, "Do we try helicopter stuff or the wind thingy?"

"Dunno," replied Bert, laying down on the granite, and using the booklet as a pillow.

"Well, we need to do something," Zane said.

"Well, come on, man! Can you fly a copter? Who knows if there are any left! And who knows where the hell sub-section B12 is anyways?"

He sighed, "Well, we might as well go and look on the roof, and the security section or whatever it was, maybe we'll find something useful."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

Bert got up and stretched his tired muscles also, and the two left the bathroom.

"How are we gonna get up to the top floor anyways?" asked Zane aloud.

"Elevators, of course," responded Bert.

"But, isn't the power out?" Zane said, puzzled.

"Naw, the toilets flushed, didn't they?" Said Bert, sounding like someone who thinks they're overly special.

"Oh," said Zane, coming to the same realization as Bert.

And it didn't take long to find the elevators, four lined up in a row, their guilded doors reflecting the lights of fires and explosions streaming through the windows opposite.

Bert pressed the 'up' button, and the whirring of machinery could be heard, and then every set of doors slid open at once without warning. Only one had an elevator, and it was shaking crazily. The others were only open space, with a blackness that was impenetrable at the bottom.

"You first," said Bert, visibly shaken.

"No, you can go first," replied Zane.

"Oh, fuck it, I will go first then!" said Bert, exasperated, stepping lightly into the elevator. It shook a little more, but slowly stopped.

"Coming?" asked Bert, grinning slightly.

"Oh, fine," he said, grumpily, also getting in.

The door closed behind them, allowing silence to envelope them within the sterile confines of the mahogany walled elevator, with a panel of silver buttons to the left of the golden doors.

The buttons were arranged in the shape of a tree, with a large rectangular one with curved corners at the top of the tree, with the word 'helipad' written on it. The choice was obvious, and Bert pressed the large rectangular button, starting the elevator.

It started to pull itself upwards, shaking and screeching violently.

"Fucked!" yelled Zane over the din. "We're fucked!"

"God Damnit, stop yer moving!" Bert yelled back, trying to hold still, eyes locked on the plasma floor display above the doors that showed they were eleven floors away now.

Five stories away there was a loud SNAP! as presumably one of the cables above snapped, shaking the whole elevator even more as it slowed down.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Only two more stories left...

Beep. Ding!

Bert and Zane both rushed towards the doors before they even opened, squeezing through to collapse onto a concrete floor. Twilight peeked through tinted glass at them from the horizon nearby. The noises that the two boys had heard on the street were back, albeit muffled, and stairs were directly ahead leading up to the real goal.

Still breathing fairly quickly and still dizzy from their near death experience, Bert and Zane stood up on shaky legs, silently thankful for the elevator not falling into the depths of its shaft with them still in it.

The two walked without words towards and up the stairs before them, out onto a huge multi-pad roof, with seven of the H's that are the hallmark of helicopter pads. It was very deserted compared to what it looked like it should be, with only one intact copter on its pad. The only other two were twisted wrecks that had apparently crashed into each other, with props and rotors twisted horribly and metal ruined. In fact, both copters had their own little spattering of charred corpses around them.

"Well, that answers the question of whether there is a helix-copter or not," said Zane quietly, glancing every so often at the two wrecked helicopters.

"Yea," Bert replied, thinking, "Shall we go and check out the security level, then?"

"Yea, that would be a good idea."

* * *

Gary swerved to avoid a wreck in the middle of the road, then swerving again to avoid a large cluster of the undead. His car was dented horribly on the front, a result of numerous undead becoming road-kill for his car's bumper. 

The little vehicle was beat up pretty bad, and on top of that was almost out of gas. Seeing that the road ahead was blocked by wreckage Gary turned into the entrance for a parking garage, forcing his dying little car up as many ramps as he could until the car finally died, its engine sputtering in protest before going silent. Grabbing the metal canister from his cup holder and putting it in one of his inner pockets, Gary abandoned the useless hulk and went for the closest elevator. He pressed the button, and while he was waiting he noticed a sky bridge going from the parking garage to a non-descript office building, only a floor above him.

As the elevator doors opened, Gary turned to enter the elevator, stopping as he saw a corpse lying against the wall. It had numerous bite marks along one leg, white bone gleaming in spots.

Plugging his nose with one hand, and grasping the body with his other, Gary pulled it out of the elevator and heaved it over the open side of the parking garage, letting it fall to the street below with a loud splat.

Getting in the elevator he pressed the button marked twenty and rode the elevator to the floor above, the elevator music sounding good compared to the moans of the undead that greeted him as the doors opened.

Entering the walkway, Gary noticed a complete turn-around compared to the garage.

The garage was dirty, smelled funny, and had litter lying about. The walkway on the other hand was already showing signs of a science lab like facility, the floor, roof, and walls that showed being a dull white. The doors at the end were double doors, as white and sterile as the walkway.

When he reached the doors, Gary stopped, peering through the small window that was on each one. The hallway on the other side was as dull white as anything, and looked clear, so he went through. A large sign in front of the double doors had a map - presumably of the floor he was on - and two arrows pointing opposite directions down the hallway. One read 'security' and the other read ' office block C'. So, understandably, Gary took the one that sounded more interesting.

Taking a left down the hallway, and then a right, he came upon a large black door lying open at the end of the hallway, as if no one had bothered to shut it. Peering through the open part of the door, he looked through to see an unassuming desk with several computer monitors mounted on it. The basic color had also now changed from white to gray.

Seeing that the room was clear Gray slipped in. The rest of the room, what Gary couldn't see before, was compromised of a couch and two doorways, both open. Seeing a kitchen in one, he slipped in and raided the refrigerator for something to eat, choosing a turkey sandwich. Sitting down he idly munched on the sandwich, his tired mind almost shutting down, when a loud clattering noise awoke him with a start.

Standing up, Gary left the kitchen back to the room with the desk, and went into the other door, where the noise had supposedly come from. Inside he found rows of bulletproof helmets, bulletproof vests, and other various combat gear. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary here, so Gary continued on through the next door, sandwich still in hand.

His jaw dropped as he saw what was in the next room. Lined upon the walls were about twenty firearms, ranging from a small black handgun to an M-16A4 with a grenade launcher attached. The culprit of the noise was an unassuming G36 assault rifle that had fallen from its mounts when they snapped.

The room was a godsend to Gary, because he had means to defend himself, even though he'd never even seen a real firearm before. As he was looking around he noticed there were several empty pegs where there should be weapons, but weren't. Oh well.

Grabbing the M-16A4 he looked at it, grin fading as he realized it was useless if he didn't know how to use it.

* * *

Bert and Zane were slightly confused as to where they had ended up. They had gone back in to where the elevator had come out and found a small staircase behind the elevators. Going down it took only moments, and they had ended up in a kitchen that had an inviting looking refrigerator. 

Bert, being hungry headed straight for the refrigerator and opened it, emerging a moment later with a bottle of soda, chips, and a sandwich.

"A man's gotta eat," Bert said, smiling broadly. His spirit hadn't been crushed yet.

"Yea..." said Zane. "Anything in there for me?" he asked peering in the refrigerator.

"I think so," Bert said between mouthfuls. "Maybe some crumbs."

Zane sighed, emerging from the refrigerator with some frozen pizza and a bottle of Root Beer. He sat down across from Bert, eating silently.

The silence was broken when a voice with more question than surprise said, "Who r' you?"

Bert turned around and Zane looked up to see a middle-aged business man who was holding an M-16 like weapon in one hand, and a plastic shopping bag with what looked like ammo in the other.

"Uh, I'd like to ask the same damned thing," Bert said cautiously. "Let's be frank," he said abruptly, "You with us or against us?"

"Uh... With you?" the man said, laying the gun on the table. "Look, see? The gun's on the table. Satisfied?"

"Yea," Bert said, getting up and proffering his hand, "My name's Bert. This is Zane," he said, nodding his head in Zane's direction.

Gary took the hand, shaking it vigorously, "Name's Gary," he said, happy to have found anyone else alive at all.

"So," Bert said, eyeing the firearm, "What's the deal with the gun?"

"I found it in the room over there," Gary said, pointing over his shoulder at the door. "I have no clue how to use it though."

"You have a clip?" Bert asked.

"In the bag," Gary said, pulling out a black clip loaded with 5.56mm rounds.

"Kewl with a K," Bert said, taking the magazine, looking at it and then the gun, the inserting it. Then he picked up the gun by the barrel and pulled back the bolt, cocking the gun. "It should work now," he said.

"How - how do you know how to do that?" Gary asked incredulously, mouth agape.

Bert smiled amiably, almost laughing, "I learned how by playing Battlefield 2!"

* * *

_The three black helicopters sped over the burning suburbs of New York, one behind the other in single file formation._

_They'd been ordered to retrieve something of extreme importance to their employers and activate it, before leaving the city and country and heading for Europe, where Umbrella was consolidating._

_The helicopters were Mi-24 Hinds, and each carried seven men. Each man was equipped to survive on his or her own in any combat situation._

_Each group of seven helicopters was a designated squad. In this case it was Delta Squad, Hotel Squad, and Lima Squad. One soldier in each squad was the assigned sniper, and instead of a combat rifle he carried an M82A1 fifty-caliber sniper rifle._

_Another person was the designated squad leader, and he carried the essential communication equipment, and at that moment the leader of Hotel squad in the last helicopter was viewing the LCD screen on the small data receiver he carried. At that moment it was telling him that their objective had been changed. Instead of heading to the previous last known destination of the mission objective, they were to head to the corporation's offices with Lima and Delta squads, because that was where the last signal had come from, and that was where the mission objective was now._

_The mission change didn't bother Hotel Squad's leader, though, he was used to objectives changing and changing and changing. Hell, maybe he'd get the privilege of destroying the Umbrella office in the Empire State Building. Maybe, just maybe._

_'Yea, he thought wryly," and maybe I'll win the lottery this year."_

_**(Ok, this here is the next chapter. For anyone who has the stry on their story alert list thingy I'm just letting you know that you may have had it telling you that a new chapter that had already been put in the story was added. This was just a side-affected of me re-writting one of the chapters. You should read it before this one. :P And yes, you may notice this chapter is longer than previous ones, but don't get used to it, maggott! **_

_**Hee hee, I said 'maggot'.**_

_**With very mature regards,**_

_**Bert)**  
_


	7. Reality Check

After they finished eating, Bert, Zane, and Gary went back into the weapons room where they each began to pick their own armament.

Bert began picking through the vests, looking for one that fit him, while Gary tried on a pair of combat boots. Zane, meanwhile, was busily strapping on kneepads, elbow pads, and a spandex undershirt.

"Aww... Come on, man. I definitely don't need to see that," joked Bert as he looked up at Zane.

"Shut your trap, biotch, this thing is comfortable," replied Zane as he moved on to boots.

"It is?"

"Yea."

"Hell, toss one over here, I might try it on," said Bert, clumsily catching the spandex undershirt Zane threw him.

"Make sure you two tie those boots tight enough," said Gary feeling that he needed to contribute something to the conversation.

About ten minutes of childish goofing off and manly dress-up with combat gear the three were almost ready to pick out weapons. But there was something that needed to be attended to first...

"How do I look?" asked Bert as he modeled for the other two guys. He had on a pair of black combat boots, his jeans, kneepads, and a thigh holster. For his torso there was the spandex undershirt, a combat vest, fingerless gloves, and a baseball cap he'd found lying around. This mixed with his glasses made for an altogether... interesting look.

"Awesome, man, just awesome," replied Zane, "you look like a nerdy backstreet counter-terrorist gangster!"

"What the hell?"

"Exactly. Now, how do I look?" Zane, on the other hand, looked way more bad ass. He had on a pair of black combat fatigues with kneepads, black combat boots, and a thigh holster as well. For the torso he had on a black spandex undershirt, a belt to hold gear and ammunition, a slim black helmet, and a knife scabbard that was tied to his other thigh.

"Well, you look completely kick ass, biz-natch," answered Bert as he nodded his head in approval.

Gary looked like a backyard warrior as he had on a large helmet, two holsters for pistols, two knives, three belts for gear, and a pair of boots along with some fingerless gloves.

"Thanks, homie," said Zane.

Bert just mumbled his reply as he had now turned to the weapons and was scrutinizing each and every one of them. Gary and Zane soon joined him.

The pegs that were missing weapons were thick and widely spaced, appearing to have held large weapons. However, the weapons still left were quite formidable. The most notable were the G36k that was lying on the ground, a G3A1 rifle that was to the left of everything, the M16A4 with the under barrel grenade launcher, two Steyr Aug's, two Ak-47s, and an Mp5.

Several minutes later the three of them found themselves armed. Zane had taken a large silver pistol that was marked to be of the .40S&W caliber and the MP5, and had filled a large pack with ammunition for both. Several magazines were on his vest. Bert had taken a nine-millimeter pistol and much ammunition for that and an L85A1 that had a 4x scope attached to it. There were four magazines for the weapon on his vest, and even more boxes of ammunition in his pack. Gary was, however, outfitted much differently from the two younger men. In a holster at his side their was a blued revolver with a six inch long barrel and a walnut grip. He claimed it to be a .44 magnum and had grabbed every box of ammunition he could find for it. His second pistol was an old 1911 with wooden grips. Strapped across his back was another weapon that looked out of place among all the automatics and black military weapons, an M14 in a beautiful wooden stock and a slim looking barrel, and a long, slim scope topped it all off.

"So... What now?" Zane asked frowning.

"Now I make sure you both know how to use your weapons," replied Bert. "Gary, you're good, I know, since you told me about shooting those sorts of things during your childhood. Now, Zane, you know how to load your MP5, right?"

Another four minutes later they were ready to go.

After examining a map of the building for a minute and conversing the three of them decided that the best way to get out of the building would be to proceed to the sky bridge opposite of the one that led to the parking garage and move toward the harbor from there.

"Come on guys, let's head to the stairs. I'll take point and Gary, you take the rear. Zane, stay in the middle," ordered Bert as he raised his L85 up to his shoulder. They were armed, cocky, and due for a reality check very soon.

They passed down the stairs without incident, the entire building was deathly quiet. The three of them exited the stairwell on the ninth floor and entered a large hallway with a large bank of tinted windows on the left, blank white walls with the occasional door on the right. The floor was sparkling clean white marble and the ceiling had a curve to it. The hallway amplified even the smallest of sounds.

Looking out the windows on the left Bert could see the street nearly ninety feet below, filled with living dead that were clamoring for entrance into the building that they were currently in. The sky bridge was only fifty feet away, jutting out over the carnage filled road below to meet the plain looking glass covered building across the street.

They came up to the doors to the sky bridge and pushed them open, leaving the echoing hallway. The bridge was quiet, as if in a twisted mockery of the scene below. The street was filled with cars, some collided with others and the rest frozen in a semblance of what they'd been doing before the shit hit the fan. The undead choked the spaces in between the vehicles and the sidewalks, a flood that filled every space available at ground level. Some were clamoring for entrance to various doors, but most wandered aimlessly throughout the streets, lost.

Bert stopped as a shadow passed over the three of them and looked up in time to see an unmarked helicopter begin to land on the roof above. He got a sudden feeling that they should be leaving, and quickly. "Let's go," he whispered to no-one in particular as his confidence and cockiness was replaced with the fear of impending doom.

Reaching the other end of the bridge Bert pulled open one of the double doors and immediately feel backwards as a fetid stink fell over him followed by four of the undead. As he scrambled backwards Bert was dimly aware of shots being fired behind him but was much more concerned with the four undead reaching for him.

After several shots from both Zane and Gary two of the undead fell to the ground either missing their heads or having suffered a lobotomy gone horribly wrong. Suddenly Bert came up to a solid surface - the wall at the other end of the bridge - and was only vaguely aware of raising his L85 to his shoulder and flicking the safety off and spraying 5.56 millimeter rounds into his shambling pursuers. Everything was suddenly quiet. The undead were now redead and Bert's weapon had jammed, saving him fourteen rounds.

Bert shakily got to his feet as adrenaline surged through his veins.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he half-whispered, "that was too fucking close."

"Yea, and I'm down an entire clip," said Zane, "I'm thinking no more full-auto shit."

"Agreed," answered Gary, his voice trembling, "we can't afford it."

* * *

The three helicopters landed on the roof of the building nearly simultaneously, and then the doors were pulled back and a total of twenty-one men jumped out. The easiest way to describe them was as soldiers of the future. Their armor appeared to solid and added nearly six inches to the soldiers' height as well as over one hundred pounds. In short each of them were wearing an exoskeleton that was a glossy black except for the Umbrella logo that adorned their backs and right shoulders. 

Fifteen of the soldiers were cradling either fixed stock G3A3s or collapsible G3A4s in their arms. Of these fifteen three had two LAWs slung across their backs. Of the six other soldiers three had massive M82A1s slung across their backs and strange looking submachine guns that sported grossly oversize drum magazines. The other three were each carrying a Russian made PKM in their arms, four boxes of ammunition for their guns strapped to their chests as well as various heavy-duty explosives.

"Hotel squad, with me!" shouted one of the soldiers through his helmet's Com's system. A bulky long-distance communications device was strapped to the Man's back, and despite it's size it appeared no inconvenience to him.

Six silent nods were directed toward him and the seven soldiers quickly disappeared down the Eastern stairs with Lima Squad Quickly vanishing down the Western stairs. Delta stayed to watch the three Hinds and the two wrecked helicopters that were tangled together at one end of the pad, precariously close to the edge, the area of one of many recent tragedies. Burnt corpses lined the ground nearby.

Meanwhile Hotel squad's leader was clearing room after room of the top floor of the building while Lima handled the one below. They would leapfrog all the way down in this manner. Every time the Hotel soldiers would either find an empty room of no importance or a burned out hulk that no longer held any incriminating evidence. Many were just empty with nothing in them at all. Then they came upon the security station. It was abandoned, but their were signs that someone had recently come by and stolen equipment.

A nearby speaker then blasted out the tinny sounds of gunfire and the SL's attention was drawn to one of the screens where two teenagers and a man who looked to be in his late thirties or early forties were firing at four approaching infected. One was crawling backwards on his ass.

Inwardly he laughed at the sight but still he called in to the Mission control. "Mission Control, this is Hotel One. Over."

"Roger that Hotel One, this is Mission Control, over."

"Mission control, I have visuals on three civilians that appear to have stumbled into the building and then raided it for supplies and weapons exiting via Sky Bridge Two, over."

"Roger that, Hotel One. You are to continue the building sweep. Let them go, over."

"Roger that Mission control, this is Hotel one, over and out."

After this conversation with a man who was an entire ocean away the Hotel one SL returned to sweeping the building, drawing ever closer to the ground floor, and from there, the basement.

* * *

Bert, Zane, and Gary were slowly walking down another hallway, this one decked out with carpet and fancy paintings. Ever since their first real up close encounter with the undead where there lives had been even more at risk than when they had been running from them the two boys had become quiet and fearful, Zane was constantly looking over his shoulder. 

At the end of the hallway the three of them came upon a huge bank of elevators, and after pressing a button the three of them discovered that these elevators were in perfect working order. The elevator sent the three of them down to the first floor where the doors opened upon yet another room like the one they had just left. Exiting this room through an open doorway on the left the three of them came upon the buildings lobby, a large but comfortable area that had large glass doors that looked out onto the street. Everyone in the lobby got a good view of the outside while only the people right up against the windows could see inside.

Unfortunately the undead were packed so tight that one did see them and it began to moan and pound against the glass, the nearby undead turning and swarming on the glass in a slow, clumsy, yet fluid motion.

The glass was already beginning to crack.

Gary swore under his breath and turned and ran through a door next to the receptionist's desk with Bert and Zane following suit. They passed through two small, dark, white hallways and then encountered a white and unfriendly stairwell. Moans from up above meant that the only direction to go was down. Into the basement, but they went anyways. The door their opened outward and had no lock, but fortunately there was a large cabinet nearby with which they covered the door behind them. The room they had just entered wasn't very large, perhaps eight feet wide and twenty long at the most. At the end was a doorway that had been filled in with brick, and there were two doors on the left and the right.

A quick search revealed one door, which had no doorknob, to open into an extremely dusty cabinet, and the one next to it to be a mechanical room which they stayed out of for the time being.

The other two doors opened into a dusty lounge and another hallway. This hallway ended abruptly with just a wall and nothing else.

"Well, crap," Bert panted as they heard moaning and loud thuds coming from the stairwell door. After that they could hear and see banging on the door. "That's not good..." he mumbled.

Zane, erstwhile, was checking out the brick wall and had managed to push about seven bricks out and was working the hole even more.

"You got us a way out, then?" asked Gary as he switched back and forth from watching Zane work to the door over on the other end of the hall vibrate.

"I dunno, the bricks are getting harder to move," replied Zane as he struggled to loosen another.

"Move it," said Gary loudly as he pushed Zane out of the way while handing him his rifle. Then he backed up and ran forward and smashed all his weight into the wall. There was a resounding _crack_ and the brick wall cracked up the middle.

All it took after that was a moment as Gary peered into the darkness and then slung his rifle over his shoulder, drawing his revolver and pulling a flashlight from one of his pockets. As he turned it on he swore he could feel the metal cannister in his left breast pocket vibrate, but nothing else happened.

"Both of you, follow me. _Now,_" Gary said as he stepped into the tunnel, flashlight in his left hand and revolver in his right.

As they stepped into the hallway there was the strangest sensation of stepping into a whole 'nother world. The sounds of the living dead laying siege to the door were immediately muffled. Several steps into the tunnel and it was inaudible altogether. The air was cold and damp and the walls were lined with rusting pipes and wires, and the floor was covered in about an inch of dirty water.

* * *

The three guys' feet made slight splashing noises as they advanced, and Bert kept glancing over his shoulder to look on the blackness behind him. Zane had pulled a flashlight out like Gary had and was now using it to watch the floor in front of him and make sure he didn't fall behind Bert or Gary. 

_Gary. _Zane thought he was alright, and was glad to have the company.

"Hold it," came the whisper from up front that sounded as if it was coming from all direction due to the echoing nature of the tunnel. He could see that beyond Gary the tunnel forked into two directions. One branch went left, the other straight ahead.

The three of them were quiet for a moment, their breath audible in the complete silence of the tunnel. Wait, what was that? There was a slight glint in the continuing tunnel, and Zane was squinting as he tried to see what it was. Suddenly the entire tunnel was filled with a vibrating sound and the glinting sound began to move forward toward them. Within seconds it had moved four feet closer and now they could see what it was - a wall of flesh filled the tunnel ahead of them, oozing forward.

"Jesus fucking Christ!" someone yelled, thought Zane wasn't quite sure who, though he could see why they'd said it.

The wall curved inward toward the center where the glinting had come from, there there were two large purple eyes that had veins running toward bloodshot centers. The flesh looked stringy and individual fibers were visible, and it was the color of sewer water - a dirty brown. And sticking toward the bottom left was an arm, hand limply and covered with dried blood.

And the smell, oh Christ the smell was just awful, completely indescribable in its unearthliness.

Zane was brought to his senses as his ear drums were assaulted again and again as Gary fired his revolver, lighting up the tunnel for an eighth of a second every few seconds. And the thing wasn't stopping. Wherever a hole opened up it would just disappear again a few moments later as the thing advanced.

"Run, Jesus Lord fucking almighty run!" yelled Gary after he had fired all six rounds into the oncoming wall.

"To the left, the left! There's one behind us too!" yelled Zane with a look over his shoulder.

The three ran as quickly as possible, hauling ass through the darkness in their rush to get away from the things. They were driven by adrenaline and a primeval fear that none of them had been familiar with until now.

* * *

"That's one ugly sonuvabitch," the soldier said over the squad's radio system. 

Seven of the squad members were there in the laboratory, the sniper and the heavy gunner were both present with their guns trained on the large glass tank that was in the middle of the room. The room was seventy feet by seventy feet and the ceiling was thirty feet up, and various lab computers and monitors ringed the bottom of the tank. Various doors led out from different areas, but the biggest one was a large steel door moved by hydraulics that had shown itself to be made of two feet of steel when they opened it, and it was large enough to drive a semi through.

Which was actually why it was there, it connected to a freight reception area, and that connected to a tunnel that ran for several hundred miles to a remote ocean-side location where supplies were dropped off via submarine. This was one of two lines that led to a submarine connection hub, the other was accessible only by monorail and was for emergency use only.

Back to the glass tank, though, which was filled with a transparent and slightly green liquid that bubbled occasionally. There was something inside the tank, something that drifted lazily back and forth in the goo, something semi-humanoid like most of Umbrella's creatures that had six grotesque arms protruding from its distorted torso, a head that had an extended dog-like mouth, and two disgusting, distorted legs. On top of that the entire thing appeared to be covered in an exoskeleton.

Orders for the soldiers were to kill it with lead, not explosives, because the creature could survive a direct hit from even an RPG even with the exo-skeleton weakened by all the acid that had been put in the solution that the thing was floating in. So how were the soldier's weapons better? Each of them had specially designed ammunition that would either pierce or significantly damage the outer shell with a special tip and then explode a half a second later. Not a large explosion, though, but just enough to damage tissue.

And the LAWs, the LAWs were equipped with special missiles that would pierce with a heavy tip and _then _explode, those were more lethal than anything else.

The squad leader, after several minutes of button pressing and code entering, pulled back a lever that started the fluids emptying from the tank. The creature, who was clearly agitated by this, began to thrash, smashing against the glass with its six arms.

Then the message came over the Com's system: "All units, open fire, the LAW is out in ten seconds."

The noise was deafening as four G3s opened fire on the creature, followed by the continuous fire from the PKM wielding soldier and the loud, deafening shots from the M82. At point blank range these shots were all extremely destructive, especially the fifty caliber rounds from the M82. The front part of the exoskeleton was nearly completely gone, bits and pieces of it littering the ground all around it. The flesh behind was continuous rippling as tens of tens of tiny explosions tore up the muscle and organs. Two of the arm had fallen off due to chance explosive hits from the M82 ripping them off, and one other was hanging on by muscle fiber and a ligament. After tens seconds the thing was still struggling forward toward the men, but was halted in its tracks by the LAW missile which whooshed from the launcher and blew the creature into tiny bits.

Yep, Umbrella wasn't fucking around with their BOWs anymore.

* * *

Private James Verruckt unlatched his pack and swung it forwards out into the void in front of him, letting it fall into the hoard fifty feet below. 

"Command, this is Foxtrot Seven, the bomb is dropped, I repeat, the bomb is dropped. Heading up top for extraction now, over," he yelled into the radio. To his right were the swirling waters of the river below and to his left were the undead that were pushing towards the cordon on the mainland side of the river, and ahead of him was one of the main towers of the Williamsburg Bridge; seperating him and the tower was twenty feet of sharply sloping cable with two smaller half inch cables on either side acting as railings.

"Roger that Foxtrot seven, but we have some bad news for you. You and everyone else on the other side of the cordon are now officially labeled biologically 'dirty' and are not allowed back through the cordon until things have settled down. The helicopter cannot pick you up, but we are leaving supplies there for you at the extraction point. You have a radio to contact us with; good luck." Came the staticky response from one of the many grunts at headquarters, and the guy even sounded like he felt bad about it. But what good did that do James?

The pack had two minutes left before it detonated, so he began hauling ass up the cable as fast as he could. Within seconds he began to sweat profusely and breath heavily as he climbed up the steep cable. Fifteen seconds later James had finally reached the top and stood up on shaky legs, dripping with sweat and with a pain in his thigh where his m9 and repeatedly jabbed into it during the steepest part of the ascent. And, as promised, there was a pile of supplies on the ground.

As he went closer he saw that whoever had decided what supplies he got had been extremely generous. There were three long wooden crates that obviously held various firearms, and behind those was one big wooden crate that was marked U.S. ARMY in big, bold letters.

James pulled the knife from his sheeth and pried open the first of the long crates and ripped off the lid. Inside was padding and an M24A3 SWS and two magazines of .338 Lapua Magnum, as well as a sling. In the second one was an M16A3with two magazines in the padding next to it. In the last one, however, was a special surprise in the form of an MGL Mk1 grenade launcher. In the crate was over three-hundred and ninety rounds of ammunition for the M16, over two hundred for the M24A3 SWS, and thirty grenades for the MGL; as well as enough food and water to last a single person four weeks, according to the writing on the box, anyways.

As he looking through this last crate, however, the pack went off, sending a shock throughout the entire bridge. The noise was deafening, not only the sound of the explosion, but the sound of metal being wrenched and contorted in ways it shouldn't be. James didn't see it but the explosives in that pack ripped apart the roadways and severed cables, but he certainly felt it; the whole bridge shook including the tower that he was on. He hit the deck with his hands over his head and swore loudly, though it was unheard over the sounds of the bridge breaking below him.

He swore a second time as there was an even louder sound again, and the whole tower seemed to shake and lean over to the side. And just as suddenly it was over. Everything was still and James couldn't hear anything over the ringing in his ears. It was a few seconds before he stood up, and when he did he found the source of the loudest sound almost immediaty: on the destroyed side of the bridge one of the plunging cables had ripped away a huge chunk of the tower's facade, the other cable was still connected to the land side of the bridge.

James swore again and stumbled as he heard a loud creaking sound and realized that the tower was starting to lean downwards into the water. He ran over to the crate and began pulling things out haphazardly until he found was he was looking for - a military green bag designed to hold a _lot_ of shit. After tightening the strap so that the bag would fit comforatabaly on him James began filling it by grabbing a weeks worth of MREs and stuffing them in the bottom. Next went ten magazines for the M16 with the other five getting places on his vest. Then he had a tough decision to make: did he take the MGL or the M24, or even neither? He was reminded of his time predicament again as the tower leaned over another inch, closer to the water's inky depths.

In the end he took the M24 by slinging it over his back and put about one hundred of the .338 rounds. On top of everything in the pack James put three blocks of C4 that he'd found in the bottom of the crate.

After hefting the pack over both his shoulders and making sure that it was ergonomically secure (it did weigh around sixty pounds now, after all) he put on a body-harness that had also been in the crate. James then headed for the unbroken side of the bridge and hesitated for barely a moment before starting down the cable.

Below him the undead horde was still pushing inexorably to the other side of the bridge, the ones towards the front not even hesitating as they plunged into the inky depths below. James lurched forwards and nearly fell over the side of the bridge as the cable jumped the slightest bit because of the previous tower's inexorable plunge downwards. He was almost to the top of the second tower when there was ear-splitting _crack_ and James barely had time to attach his harness to one of the smaller nearby cables before the cable he was on began to fall downwards.

The last thing he saw was more of the bridge crashing into the water, the far tower falling over, and the blackness coming up to meet him.

* * *

**Note:**

**Man, I take forever to write. If you bums who read this happen to notice any errors it's because I don't really proofread these all too much. If anyone were willing to do it for me that'd be awsome, but oh well. Before I go I ask that you check out my other story just for kicks if you have the time. Well, so long!**

**-R.T.D.W.**


End file.
